


But it's different now

by icecreamsuki



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icecreamsuki/pseuds/icecreamsuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s one of those walks that make you realize how important someone is in your life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But it's different now

**Author's Note:**

> written in Nino's POV

-=-=-  
  
With my baseball cap, sunglasses and earphones in place, I usually walk along these concrete pavements in a hurry, without an ounce of concern about the people who casually pass me by. I used to turn the volume to the maximum and live in my own made up world, in careless abandon of everything around me. We live in a fast-paced era and I consider every idle minute as wasted time. I spent every day with nothing in mind but work and earning money and myself. Life is a game and I am a player who hates losing.  
  
But it’s different now.  
  
With a simple shirt, a simple pair of pants and a simple pair of sneakers, I once again walk along this road. I purposely wore the things you usually wear to be able to view the world as you see it. Slowly, this time, as if internalizing every rustle of leaves along with the symphony of birds and the faraway chatter of old friends. I look at my hand and notice the distinct sunbeams that strike it as the warmth seems to fill up my soul.   
  
I pass by an ice cream stand and see a mother handing a cone to her daughter as her older son deliciously licks the ice cream on the cone he is holding. The younger daughter laughs at her brother as she sees droplets of the dessert around his mouth. The brother pouts, scoops some ice cream with his finger and dabs it on the face of the little girl. The siblings chase after each other as their mother watches them amusedly.  
  
That kind of childishness used to irk me to no end. But it’s different now. I never expect their innocent laughter to be music to my worn-out ears.   
  
I walk some more and I see a crowd of people gathered around something. After listening closely, I find out that there was a blind girl playing the guitar and singing as people watch and donate money in appreciation of her performance. I do not recognize the song but by the way the crowd claps and sings along with her, I can tell that it is a famous one.   
  
I used to despise thing like that, a blind person asking for sympathy and earn money for it. But it’s different now. I close my eyes and let the melody permeate my ears, just like how you do when I play you a song I have just composed. You are always the first one to hear my songs, not because I know you will praise my work and thereby uplift my ego, but because your opinions matter to me. What you think has always mattered to me.  
  
I suddenly smell the aroma of freshly-baked bread and can’t help but trace the source. I watch as the grandfather sitting on the bench feeds a chunk to his wife beside him. The grandmother beams in appreciation and slightly looks away to hide her blush. I remember the day you told me about your dream to set up your own bakery even though you don’t even know how to bake. It was adorable, really, how you passionately talk about that simple dream, how your eyes sparkle with excitement. I found myself wishing that I can be a part of that dream. And even now, I do.   
  
As I watch the old couple, I start to worry how we will be ten, twenty years from now. Will we still be together or will we drift apart, with nothing but melancholic memories to look back to? Will we give in to our emotions and end up hurting each other, as if the world revolves only around our wants and needs, neglecting that of the other? Will living in peace just remain a distant dream for us, just like touching the stars on a cloudy night? But then, I stop in realization. I shake my head and chase those thoughts away. Because it’s different now. You keep telling me to live in the present, to appreciate every borrowed moment and not worry about the future. Your voice starts to resonate in my head, as if that of a nagging mother, and magically, I calm down. You seem to have the innate ability to calm me down and I thank you for that.   
  
After my little walk and my unprecedented soliloquy, I realize that I never noticed these simple wondrous things before. And it is interesting and mysterious how these simple things all seem to remind me of you.  
  
I reach my destination and see no sign of you around. It was okay with me, honestly. I sit on the bench that was too familiar as it stirred a lot of memories in my mind. Memories of your sleepy head resting on my shoulder as I hum a random tune. Of your fingers precisely holding your pencil as my thumbs deliberately hit the buttons of my game. And of our fingers intertwined as we stared at the sunset with both of us absorbed in our own thoughts, mine always that of you. And by the way you gently squeezed my hand, I could tell that your thoughts lingered on me.   
  
From the corner of my eye, I see a figure of a man rushing to where I am. It is you. You look flushed as you reach the bench where I am sitting. I stare at you as you try to catch your breath after all that running. Knowing you, I bet you ran all the way just to keep me from waiting.  
  
While you are still holding your knees and panting, you look into my eyes and survey my face for a while. You have a knack for figuring out what I am thinking just by looking at me. I hate it sometimes, but I appreciate how you can read me without me taking the trouble of saying how I feel.   
  
“You waited,” you say. I am not taken aback. You are not the type of person who hides under false pretense and ask “Did you wait?” when the other person apparently did wait. You are straightforward and I like you for that. I know I act like a brat most of the time. And this is probably the proper timing for me to act like one and scold you about making me wait for a long time and making you pay for it as I name the price. But it’s different now.  
  
You lift an eyebrow in confusion as if you are waiting for a bratty remark from me but I will not give in to that. Instead, I hold your hand and place a soft, chaste kiss on your lips. I look at your eyes for a long time and I hope that you use your telepathic powers to figure out what I am thinking, because no matter how loud I seem to be, I am shy when it comes to voicing out my feelings.   
  
“You love me,” you say. And I cannot help but smile at that. And suddenly that bench that is too familiar has another special memory attached to it.   
  
Again, you read me right.   
-  
I learned of beauty. I learned of love. I learned of life. It’s different now because you taught me those things. And my thoughts right now revolve around how beautiful it is to have you in my life.  
  
  
-=-=-


End file.
